


Hunter's Game

by orphan_account



Category: Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Hunter's Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liviania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviania/gifts).



The wide woods is as alive as ever, sounds stirring, other animals moving about and leaving their scents dangling tantalizingly on the air, like tethers, so unwittingly leaving themselves open to being tracked – to being hunted. And that is what they should be most wary of now, as a sudden hush fills the air at the wolf’s very presence, as he steps into the previously lively little wildflower glade. The world stills around him in anticipation and dread, because it knows that he is the one who will be doing the hunting; that he is the one who will spill fresh blood if any should be naïve enough to come too close or run away too slowly.

He stands still, basking in his own pride and the warmth of the sun filtering through the leaves. Then his ears swivel, turning toward the sudden breaking of the silence, leaves crackling as someone moves off the beaten path. He moves slowly back into the underbrush, eyes fixed and gleaming, as he watches his new prey toddle towards the flowers. She’s tiny for a human, but more than enough of a prize for him, all plump and soft, like one of the small lambs he had taken not more than two nights ago. 

She’s moved quite close to his hiding spot now, picking flowers aimlessly and singing a nursery rhyme to herself. He could take her in an instant. He could stain her hood even redder, and put an end to the bobbing of her cute blonde curls. But for him, the thrill of the chase has always been the most satisfying part of the hunt, other than the wet crack of bone. And he also knows that the weak of the herds always move together – such simple prey will always lead to a better kill if he is merely patient. 

He smiles wickedly to himself, before slipping on the innocent bravado of a common mutt, and stepping out into a patch of dandelions. “Hello, little girl, how are you doing today? What do have in your basket?”


End file.
